


the scars you left on my heart

by desolatemind (aryasbadbenergy)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gendrya - Freeform, Post Season 7, canon AU, gendrya ae, gendrya au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryasbadbenergy/pseuds/desolatemind
Summary: the King in the North is not pleased to find the blacksmith in his little sister’s bedchamber





	the scars you left on my heart

**Author's Note:**

> i originally uploaded this to tumblr but i didn’t really like the ending so i changed it and reuploaded it here lol

Arya had fallen asleep only an hour ago, but Gendry felt like he had laid there for forever. He didn't want to leave her while she slept, but first light would come soon, and Gendry could not be caught in the Princess's bed. Her leg lays across his stomach, and every time she moves, the inside of her thigh slides across his hip. Her body bare except for the thin linen that drapes across their hips. Her head is on his arm, but most of her body rests on his side and presses her breasts against his ribs. She shifts again, and her leg ventures lower.

Her body had small scars all over, but the insides of her thighs were smooth. The outsides were just as scarred as the rest of her body. He mindlessly rubs his hand on her back, and feels some of her marks from the House of Black and White. Her arms had healed cuts from various injuries, but he loved the mark on her face the most. She had fallen out of a tree as a child, and split her lip open, leaving a faint scar that led up to her nostril. He tries not to despise the scars that mark her stomach, but it's difficult. She says they're ugly, and he knows she's self-conscious of them every time she removes her smallclothes for him, so he's sure to hide the fury he feels when he sees them. They could have killed her. They almost did. Unlike the scars that littered her body to teach her lessons for losing her balance while climbing a tree or not paying close enough attention to the end of a blade while fighting, the scars on her belly only showed that she had failed to obey an order to kill someone underserving of a painful death. She murmurs something to Gendry and he doesn't know if she's waking or sleep talking. She slides her leg across his stomach, resting it just below his belly button. Her hair, which was still kept short (albeit neatly cut to reach her shoulders) had tangled from the early events of this morning and fell across her face. A chunk sticks to the corner of her mouth and moves a little which each breath she withdraws. Gendry smiles softly and brushes it away from her face. She hums in response, finally stirring from her sleep. She opens her eyes and huffs a little.

"Morning, already?" She mumbles, and he smiles again at her sleepy state.

"You can sleep for a while longer, I need to get back to the forge," he whispers, trying not to rouse her too much.

"Have you slept?" She asks, shutting her eyes again and pressing her face against Gendry's neck.

"No, I was going to sleep for a little while at the forge before everyone wakes up," he says, and he knows she's probably rolling her eyes at him under his chin. The war for dawn had ended, but Cersei Lannister still wanted Jon and Daenerys's heads on spikes for trying to rebel against her claim to the throne. And they would need weapons to win.

"Why don't you just sleep here?"

"And have the King in the North and his wolf catch me? I think not, m'lady." She groans in response to the nickname. "Oh, right, my apologies, _Your_ _Grace_ ," he teases and she shoves his chest.

"I'm not the princess, stupid. Sansa is."

"Last I checked, having a brother for a King makes you a princess."

"How many princesses do you know of that invite men into their beds?” she snaps, and he lets out a small chuckle.

"Men? I hope you don't mean there’s more than me," he teases and she smiles against his throat. She hums in response. "Well?" he prods and Arya’s smile grows.

"Oops, you weren't supposed to know about my many lovers."

"Well now that you've told me they exist, I have to know who I'm fighting for your affections."

"Let's see," she leans up from her spot and rests her head on her hand. "There's Podrick... Samwell... my brother's wife, Meera..."

"Queen Daenerys?"

"Her, too," she jests. "And Jaime Lannister."

"I must say, Your Grace, you are quite the little scoundrel of Winterfell."

"Someone had to be," she gives him a smile, one that was reserved for him in private. When she trained in Braavos she learned to hide her emotions, but the only one that she couldn't control around Gendry was her love.

Gendry leans forward and gives her a chaste kiss. She tries to draw him in, but he knows he needs to leave her chamber soon. She kisses him again, and pushes her leg across his stomach lower, but he catches her thigh with one of his hands.

"I have to go," he says.

She wraps an arm protectively around his shoulder and moves to lay over top of him, trapping him. "No."

"Arya, I could use one finger to push you off and leave if I wanted to," he says, but makes no more moves to leave.

"Then why haven't you?" She asks as she sits up and leans her body from left to right to straddle him. She raises her eyebrow at him, waiting for his response.

"Because I don't want to,” he says, with a huff. Arya leans forward to kiss him. Gendry pulls his lips away. “I need to go.” But as Arya moves and gasps his name over top of him, he finds it's hard to remember why he needs to be anywhere but with her.

-

Gendry wakes up later, as light glares through Arya's window. "Shit!" He gasps, and tries to gather his smallclothes. Arya sits up and looks at him, a small blush coating her cheeks.

"You're still here?"

"We fell asleep," he says, trying to keep his voice low, knowing sounds carry and people whisper. "I need to leave before anyone sees me in here." The last thing he wanted was the King discovering his affair with the Princess.

"Right," Arya says, and hands him his discarded breeches by the edge of her bed. Gendry pulls them on, and tries to tie all of his clothes back together neatly. He finishes dressing and laces his boots up. "It doesn't look much later than first light, if you leave now you can probably make it out of this wing so you don't look so out of place." He quickly nods and walks over to Arya. He plants a small kiss on her forehead and she shoves him lightly. "Go," she prods and he smiles at her.

He makes it out into the hallway with only a small creak from the door. He gently shuts it after looking to make sure no one is roaming the corridor. He creeps towards one of the castle’s many exits, but before he has the chance to hide, the King and Princess Sansa round the corner.

"Gendry?" Jon asks, with a perplexed look on his face.

"Your Grace," Gendry responds, falling into a kneel. Jon motions for him to stand up. Gendry looks to Sansa who wears a look of disappointment.

"What brought you to the Princess's chambers this early in the morning?" Jon asks, but Gendry knows Jon already has the answer.

"The Princess's sword needed mending, Your Grace. She asked me to take a look at it," Gendry lies.

"At first light? Surely you had more pressing matters to attend," The King snaps as he stomps towards Arya's door. He pulls it open and Arya clutches the linens to her naked chest.

"Jon! Do you knock?" Arya shouts, as Gendry accepts that he's going to die today. Sansa grimaces and Jon steps towards Gendry.

Jon grabs Gendry's arm and starts to walk him away from Arya's chamber. "Sword mending," he grumbles to himself. Sansa shuts Arya's door and rushes behind Jon and Gendry.

"Jon," she says, but he doesn't respond. “Jon,” she prods again. Gendry keeps pace with Jon and can only hope that Ghost's whereabouts are unbeknownst to Jon. "Jon!" Sansa snaps, and Jon stops to turn around to look at Sansa.

"Sansa!" Jon finally responds, barely sparing her a glance.

"Jon, you are making a scene. You need to calm down," she hisses, lowering her voice. Arya emerges from her chamber, dressed in breeches and a half-tied jerkin. Her hair remains tangled, and she rushes towards the group.

"Jon, please," Arya begs, "Can we talk about this? Not here."

Jon finally lets his iron-like grip on Gendry go, and nods. "Fine."

Jon doesn't give anyone time to respond as he starts walking again. Sansa and Arya follow him, and Gendry trails behind the three, praying to every God he knows.

They end up in Jon's solar, and Gendry sits directly across from him, intensely focused on his knees. "Do you want to explain to me why you were in my little sister's chamber?" Jon asks, looking as angry as any King Gendry had heard about.

"I needed to mend her sword, Your Grace." Jon's glower tells Gendry he didn't give him the correct response. "I fell asleep, Your Grace."

"We were being improper," Arya grumbles, giving her brother an eye roll.

"I know _that_ ," Jon hisses. "I wanted Gendry to tell me."

"Why?" Arya snaps. "Are you going to geld him?" She agitates, and Gendry silently curses her for giving Jon the idea.

"I've considered it!" Gendry moves his hand to protect his manhood. He would sooner set himself on fire than be castrated today.

"Jon, be reasonable, please," Sansa says, and Gendry is thankful of her for being the only calm Stark in this situation.

"Be reasonable? One of my trusted friends has been... has been..." he shakes his hands in Gendry and Arya's direction.

"If I remember correctly, Arya and Gendry were friends for much longer than you and Gendry. Unless you were planning on selling Arya in a marriage alliance, it does not really matter what our sister does in private."

Jon ran his hands through his curls. "If you had asked me, I would've allowed you to marry," Jon announces, unexpectedly. Gendry perks up at the King's words. "Now that you have..." Jon doesn't finish his statement. "You should marry. I won't force you, Arya, but if you respect me or Gendry, you will not refuse his hand to bear his bastard."

"I am only a bastard, Your Grace. I don’t wish to give a trueborn child a bastard's name."

"You are the late King Robert's bastard. I only need to sign a paper, and you could have a last name to give your children."

Gendry turns to look at Arya, not wanting to respond without her approval. "What are you waiting for, Stupid?” she says, with a small grin on her face. Arya had expressed her disgust of marrying a lord as a child, but Gendry was not a lord. He would only be a boy with a proper name. 

Gendry nods. “I would like that, Your Grace. But I wish to stay at Winterfell. I’m sure Lady Arya would, too.”

“A man can not take his wife’s name,” Jon sighs. 

”Why not? Before you, a bastard could not be King,” Sansa remarks, giving Arya a knowing smile. Jon looks between his sisters. 

“You knewabout _this_?” Jon hisses. 

“Of course I knew. Arya told me.”

”’Told’ is a strong word,” Arya mumbles. 

Jon scoffs. “Well she did not tell _me_.”

Sansa stifles a laugh. “We did not think you would have wished to know.”

"Do not think that I'll forgive you all for this easily," Jon huffs to Gendry and his sisters, as he reaches for a blank piece of parchment. “I need to write to the Lords of the North. My little sister is getting married.”

**Author's Note:**

> in the original it was stark-baratheon but then i thought about it and i was like ?? but do either of them want to leave winterfell to go somewhere neither of them have ever been and rule OR do they want to stay in winterfell with their family ??


End file.
